Of Porlocks and Prejudice
by Rule23
Summary: Hermione and Severus take their daughter to a museum, and she is confronted with prejudice and the war for the very first time.


**Disclaimer**_**: **_Anything you recognise belongs to the incomparable J. K. Rowling. No money is being made from this.

**Written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition – Season Seven – Semi-Finals!**

**Beater 2 for the Tutshill Tornados**

**Semi-Finals: It's a Classic**

I don't know about y'all, but my AP English teachers pushed the classics like they were the keys to life. I spent years reading, analyzing passages, seeking meaning, etc, etc, etc. And so, for this round, we will be revisiting some of my favorites. Each position will receive a key point from a classic novel as to use in your story.

**BEATER 2**: To Kill a Mockingbird: A character becomes aware of prejudices and/or social inequality.

**Additional Prompts:**

(dialogue) "Have I told you lately how much I love you?"

(setting) Museum

**Thanks to the Tutshill Tornados for betaing!**

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Of Porlocks and Prejudice

Words: 1267

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"Leenie! Slow down! You'll break your neck!" Hermione shouted down the marble hall of the museum.

In her haste to obey her mum, Leenie skidded to a stop in front of a display of goblin armour—on loan with special permission from Gringotts—and nearly slammed into the glass.

"I don't know where she gets her energy from," Hermione said, turning to her husband. "It's certainly not from me."

"Well don't look at me." Severus chuckled, squeezing her hand. "I spent more time with my nose buried in a cauldron as a child than I ever did outside."

"Birds of a feather, as Dad would say."

"Mummy!" Leenie span around to face her parents. "D'you think this armour would fit me?"

"Hmmm," said Hermione, tapping her lips with a thoughtful finger. "Stand next to it and turn to face me."

Hermione slipped her wand from her sleeve and transfigured the floor Leenie was standing on into a step, raising her up to match the pedestal the armour stood on. Leenie squealed with delight.

"What d'you reckon?" Hermione asked Severus. "Is she goblin-battle-ready?"

"Well," Severus said, addressing his daughter directly. "You're certainly tall enough. But why for the love of Merlin would you want to go to battle?"

"Silly Daddy!" Leenie shook her head with a grin. "I don't want to go to battle! I want to blend in with the suits of armour at home." She always insisted on calling Hogwarts "home" despite the perfectly nice house they lived in during the school holidays. "Then I can scare the ickle firsties!" She cackled, throwing her head back and setting her black curls bouncing.

"You're six, Leenie, and about a foot shorter than the smallest first year. They're hardly 'ickle'." The nonsense word sounded ridiculous coming from Severus's mouth.

Leenie shrugged. "That's what Peeves calls 'em."

"And a petulant poltergeist you are not. So don't act like one."

She stuck her tongue out at him and hopped down from the step. He had to turn to hide his grin.

Hermione took Leenie's hand in her own and led her to the next exhibit.

"How come it's so empty in here? When we went to the museum with the dinosaurs, there were millions of people!" Leenie shouted "Hello!" and listened to the echo bounce around the empty hall.

"Well, this is sort of _my _museum," said Hermione. It still felt surreal saying that. She couldn't believe the Ministry actually granted her the funding. "I designed the museum. It's a way to tell magical folk about our past. It doesn't open until next week, though. I thought it would be nice if you and Daddy got to see it first."

"Are there any animals like in the dinosaur museum?"

"Follow me and find out!" Hermione darted down the corridor.

"But, Mummy," Leenie yelled as she ran, "you said not to run!"

* * *

The Hall of Magizoology was one of the biggest in the entire museum. A path wound its way through a host of different habitats—jungles, deserts, woodlands, hills, lakes, mountains, frozen tundras—and each one was home to different creatures.

"Will they hurt me?" Leenie asked, looking at particularly vicious-looking Porlock. Its red fur bristled and its cloven feet pawed at the ground. Leenie grasped her dad's hand tighter.

"They aren't real, honey. They're all magical projections. It would be cruel to keep animals in here," Hermione explained.

"The ones in the other museum were dead."

"Some people might find that cruel, too. I certainly prefer the projections."

"What do you think, Daddy?"

"Your mother's right—as usual." Hermione smacked him playfully on the arm. "I think the projections are nicer. Merlin knows I'm fed up of seeing dead animals after forty years of brewing."

"I guess I'll have to get used to seeing chopped up animals," Leenie said seriously.

"And why is that?" asked Severus.

"Because I'm going to be a Potions Master just like Daddy!" She straightened as she said it. "Oh look! A Hinkypunk!" Leenie chased after the glowing creature, unappreciative of the irony in such a gesture.

"Did you hear that, darling?" A smug smile pulled at Severus's mouth. "She's going to be just like Daddy."

"Then you'd better start setting a better example, dear."

* * *

Hermione was dreading the next section of the museum. It had been the hardest to curate. She was too close to it—it was still so raw.

Its centrepiece loomed in front of her as it had all those years ago when she, Harry, and Ron broke into the Ministry.

_MAGIC IS MIGHT_.

Leenie made straight for it.

"Mummy?"

"Yes, honey?"

"Why are all those people being crushed?" Her eyes narrowed in confusion.

"They're Muggles." She'd thought long and hard about how she wanted this conversation to go. She'd decided to let Leenie take the lead.

"But why is it okay to crush Muggles?"

"I don't think it is, do you?"

"Of course not! Muggles are people! Just like me, you, and Daddy."

"That's what I think too, honey."

"Then why…?" Leenie didn't have the words to finish her question. Didn't know how to ask something like that.

"You remember that Daddy and I fought in a war before you were born?" Leenie nodded. "Well, that war started because some wizards and witches—Voldemort and his Death Eaters—decided that Muggles aren't as good as we are because they don't have magic."

"That's just silly! They have television and aeroplanes and Coca-Cola and the Tube and museums with dinosaurs! Muggles are great!"

"They are, yes. But these wizards and witches thought themselves superior and worked to create a world where magic ruled. Where Muggles would be treated like animals and Muggleborns would be imprisoned."

"So you and Granny and Grandad were treated meanly?" Leenie asked.

"Yes. When I was seventeen, I went into hiding, and I sent your grandparents to Australia so that they'd be safe."

"Did the mean people kill Muggles?" Leenie asked in a small voice.

"Yes, Leenie. And the wizards and witches who fought against them. That's how Uncle Fred died. It's how Daddy nearly died."

Leenie's eyes widened, and she looked to her dad. His hand went to his neck, fingering the red, ropey scar that twisted between his ear and collarbone.

Leenie looked back at her mum. "Even if Muggles didn't have all the great stuff they do, they wouldn't deserve that! Voldysnort and his Dead Eaters are dunderheads. No one—not even house-elves or goblins or ghosts—should be treated like that!" Her eyes were bright and there was a stubborn set to her chin.

"I quite agree, honey."

Leenie ran to her dad and threw her arms around his waist, hugging him tightly. "I'm glad you're not dead, Daddy."

"As am I," he told her seriously. "If you want, you can go and read the names of all of those that died. They're written on the wall over there." He pointed to a long, marble wall covered in inch-high names.

"Okay." She nodded solemnly and ran off towards the wall.

"Have I told you lately how much I love you?" Severus asked, reaching out a hand to his wife.

"You might have mentioned it. Once or twice."

"You've done an amazing job with this," he said, gesturing to the room. "The wizarding world can't afford to forget. And now they won't be able to."

"That's the hope."

They watched their daughter—their little, precocious miracle—as she traced the names of the dead, relieved that she wasn't growing up in the same world they did.

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The End


End file.
